The Germano-Polish frontier
by SuperstitiousSeaturtles
Summary: Gilbert has managed to persuade Feliks to go camping with him and ends up in a tent with a wet, irritated Pole. Human AU (I think they go to university). Just a silly oneshot, nothing much. It's probably going to get a part two, because I really wand Feliks to meet Francis and Antonio. Rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. The Camping

**Author's note:**

**Okay, I realise PrusPol isn't really that popular a pairing, but it strives in the polish fandom, and I personally adore it. They're both just so much fun! Pretty much as fun as Francis and Arthur. I just hope you'll enjoy this little thing I conjured.**

* * *

'You're an idiot.'

'Hey, that's not a very nice thing to say, is it?'

'It's true, though. Now, stop smiling already.'

The wicked smile on Gilbert's face only grew wider. 'Stop being such a buzzkill. It's going to be fun, you'll see.' He put his arm around Feliks' shoulders, only causing the blond's frown to deepen. 'I seriously doubt that. Unless you're planning to, like, make it stop raining by sheer willpower or something. But, clearly, you're not, so shut up.'

'What are you, made of sugar? It's only a little rain! Besides, we are _inside_.'

'Yeah - inside a _tent_!'

Feliks and Gilbert were sat in a greenish, visibly used tent, dressed in several layers of clothing and with their sleeping bags wrapped around their bottom halfs.

It was supposed to be a sunny weekend and Gilbert has managed to drag his boyfriend on a camping trip, assuring him it would be 'the awesomest thing he'd ever experience'. So far Feliks managed to get bitten by ants, trip over a tent chord and get caught in the rain while trying to gather firewood, which was now laying outside, soaking up the water and becoming more and more useless with every second.

Gilbert shuffled a little closer, not at all discouraged by Feliks' grumpiness, and pushed the wet strands of hair from the blond's face with his free hand. After he was done his hand lingered on the shorter, and definitely wetter, boy's cheek, and he leaned in slightly. 'You know,' he whispered into his ear 'there are always things we could do to kill some time.'

Feliks rolled his eyes and moved slightly away from the albino. 'If you think I'm going to have sex with you now, then think again.'

'What's so bad about that? It's raining, we're in a tent in the middle of nowhere, slightly cold and with nothing better to do.'

'Gilbert, I'm sore, itchy, wet, and sort of annoyed at you. Wait, scratch that, _really_ annoyed at you. It's going to take a little more than a suggestive whisper to get me in the mood. Not that I'd count on anything getting me in the mood right now.'

It was Gilbert's turn to roll his eyes.' Gee, why do you polish people complain all the time?'

'Why are you german people dicks all the time?' the blond shot back, sticking out his tongue at his boyfriend. Gilbert grinned again. 'And they tell me _I'm_ the immature one.'

He received a painful stab with an elbow for that.

They sat in silence for a moment before Gilbert decided to speak again. 'What do you wanna do, then?' Feliks shrugged 'I dunno. What do we even have here?'

'Some snacks, playing cards, a flashlight, two six-packs of beer, Scrabble, and, I believe, half a litter of vodka. We could-'

'No.'

'But you don't even-'

'We're not playing strip poker, Gilbert.'

'Damn.'

The albinos eyes suddenly lit up again. 'What about strip Scrabble?'

'No. Seriously, I'm freezing - the last thing I want to do is strip!'

'Fine, fine. How about we just play regular Scrabble and drink some beer?'

Feliks sighed, running a hand through his wet hair. 'Yeah, I guess we could do that.'

'Awesome!' Gilbert started digging through his backpack, and after a while he threw a can of beer for the other to catch.

'Hey! Are you trying to pass me the beer, or _decapitate_ me with it?!' the Pole managed to save his face from having a can imprinted on it at the last possible moment. 'Also, for your own good, I really hope you took the english Scrabble, because if that's another one of your schemes to force me to use german, I swear I will-'

'Gott, relax, will you? I took german beer, english Scrabble and polish vodka. Everything is just as it's supposed to be. Now stop whining and get your seven letters, princess.'

* * *

'Okay, I might not be a native speaker or anything, but _awesomity_ is totally not a word.'

'_What?_ 'Course it is! It's the measure of how awesome something is!'

'That's _awesomeness_, jackass.'

'Ooooh… You might be right about this one.'

'Of course I am! So take your letters back, there's no way in hell you're getting those points.'

It was already their second round. The first one had been won by Feliks, with 190 points, while Gilbert had gotten merely 120. He was desperately trying to take his revenge now, but failing miserably, as half the words he came up with didn't exist. The blonde smirked triumphantly as his rival was gathering the letters and putting them back on his tray. Gilbert pouted slightly, partially to humour his overly competitive boyfriend.

Not that he himself wasn't competitive - under normal circumstances he would've practically begun a third World War over loosing _any_ game; especially _two rounds _of any game. It's just that right now loosing has kind of helped him reach his goal for the evening. Feliks was visibly more relaxed after letting his win and the almost six beers he drank go to his head, and Gilbert was more than happy about that.

'And, on that note, I win. _Again_. You totally suck at Scrabble, broski!'

He was even grinning now. Yeah, definitely worth it. The albino frowned, but the glint in his eyes was impossible to miss. 'I'm about 90% sure you either cheated or used black magic, but I'm gonna let you have it anyway, kleines Ding.'

'I'd like to remind you that I'm actually older than you, so why don't you, like, suck it.' Feliks' hands were on his hips, his eyes playfully challenging. Gilbert has been waiting for the moment the sass would be back - he loved to tease Feliks when he knew the other was up for a squabble. Which, to be honest, was most of the time.

'Klaines Ding has nothing to do with age, Liebe. It means you're an eenie meenie tiny short little baby!' Having said that, he proceeded to squeeze Feliks' cheeks between his fingers, causing the latter so squirm whilst trying not to let the giggles escape his mouth. 'Mein tiny little bunny! Aren't you just the tiniest, cutest little thing, Feli?'

Feliks finally managed to escape Gilbert's fingers. 'Oh my God, don't call me that! Seriously, _ew! _Do you realise how creepy it is when you call me the same nickname your _brother_ calls his boyfriend?!'

Gilbert chuckled and, yet again, scooted closer to the Pole.

'You never minded before.'

'Well, yeah, because I only found out he calls him that, like, two days ago or something.'

'Okay, Liebie. Can I still call you Liebe, Liebe?' with every word he got an inch closer, and when he finished the sentence, he gave Feliks a peck on the lips. The blonde chuckled and rolled his eyes.

'Yes, you nugget. I swear, sometimes you're just like a puppy.'

'Ahhhh, but I'm an _awesome_ puppy, aren't I?'

The albino gave him a face-splitting grin whilst putting his head on Feliks' shoulder, which caused them both to topple over and end up laying on a pile of pretty much everything they had, Gilbert on top of Feliks, both laughing.

'So, how awesome on the scale of _awesomity_ are you?' the blonde smirked.

'I'm pretty sure I'm somewhere around _the awesomest._'

After a moment the albino propped himself on his elbows, red eyes locking with green ones. 'Feliks.' he started. 'I have something very important to tell you.'

The blonde raised an eyebrow. 'Oh yeah? And what's that?'

Gilbert leaned even closer, until his lips were right next to Feliks' ear.

'… The beer is gone.'

Feliks pulled away, looking at his boyfriend with mock horror. 'No…'

'I'm afraid it is' Gilbert nodded sadly.

'Well, you know what that means…'

'I'm afraid I do. Brace yourself - we're opening the vodka!'

'Good Lord!'

He didn't manage to hold the giggle in.

* * *

It was late evening. They had already drank half of the bottle of vodka and were currently lying between tangled sleeping bags, Feliks' head on Gilbert's chest.

'So, you're actually moving out of you'r brothers basement, huh? Which crazy moron decided to move in with _you_?' Feliks stabbed Gilbert's chest with his finger, smirking. The albino returned the smirk, ruffling his boyfriend's hair, which earned him a scowl.

'Two crazy morons, actually. You've met Francis and Toni, haven't you?'

Feliks sat up. 'Oh, the casanova wannabe and the happy-go-lucky bloke? No wonder they agreed, they're almost as mental as you are. But good for you, I guess. And for Ludwig. Mostly for Ludwig.'

Gilbert grinned, turning around, so that he was lying on his side, head propped on one elbow. 'Now you're just being mean. Francis and Tonio are perfectly sane, not to mention radically awesome. It's going to be fun, you'll see!'

'Yeah, perfectly sane… By your standards, maybe. Besides, I'd like to remind you that you said the same thing about this trip.'

'That it's perfectly sane and radically awesome?' Gilbert teased.

'That too. But I meant the 'it's going to be fun, you'll see' bit.'

'Ahh, that. You don't have to worry, Liebsten, I'm not going to let Francis touch you, or Antonio… smother you with tomatoes, or whatever it is that you're scared he's going to do.'

'Feliks got slightly pink with annoyance at that. 'First of all, I don't need you to protect me from some frenchie. Second of all, I don't even suspect Antonio of possessing enough wit to, like, manage to smother me with tomatoes. Third of all, whenever you say something's _going to be fine_, it just turns out to be a complete fiasco!'

Gilbert's smile only widened at the Pole's agitation. 'Don't over exaggerate, this trip wasn't entirely that bad, was it…?' he gave the blond his most adorable pout. Feliks crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.

'You're impossible, Gil. Literally impossible. Also, I can't _over _exaggerate. It's just 'to exaggerate'. You're a moron.'

'But I'm _your_ moron, aren't I?'

Feliks had to admit that his boyfriend looked quite adorable while giving him the puppy eyes. 'That's not really reassuring, you know.' he answered, but he couldn't help but give him a tiny smile.

The albino couldn't help but chuckle. 'Trust me, you're going to love Franny and Toni. They're a little weird, I'll give you that, but aren't we all? Besides, you and Francis could go shopping together. God knows I can't handle either of you in a mall.'

'Alright, I'll give them a shot. But that doesn't change the fact that you're a moron.'

'And yet you still love me. What does that say about you, Feli?'

Feliks didn't even argue with the nickname this time, as his smile got a fraction of an inch wider.

'Definitely nothing good, I'll tell you that.'

* * *

**Author's note:**

**Sorry to bother you again. So… Did you like it? Did you hate it? Did it confuse you? Do you wan't to see Feliks meet Franny and Toni? Well, it's going to happen anyway, because I think it'll be hilarious, but I still want ****_all_**** the opinions!**

**Reviews make rainbow cupcakes appear in your kitchen. Also, they would make me feel a little better about failing a pretty important exam yesterday.**


	2. The Dinner

"I'll be there in five minutes! The bus was late, and the traffic was a nightmare, and generally it's totally not my fault!"

Yeah, right. Feliks left his apartment twenty minutes too late, because he couldn't decide wether he wanted to wear the baby pink shirt or the green shirt. He was obviously going to go with the pink one all along, 'cause it was way too fab not too, but he needed at least fifteen minutes of staring at both of them to feel absolutely certain. Because he definitely wasn't freaking out… but he was kind of freaking out. Today was the lucky day Feliks Łukasiewicz would try to befriend his boyfriends flatmates. And both of them were totally bat-shit crazy.

He jumped over a puddle which was blocking his way to the door and pressed number seventeen on the intercom. After five seconds someone picked up, and he sighed with relief, recognising Gilbert's voice.

"The fabulous has arrived! Let me in, peasant."

"Finally! Did you take a plane to get here? Because only going through customs could explain you being this late."

"Shut up and let me in Gil, it's raining."

"Fine, fine"

A loud beep indicated that Gilbert did in fact open the door for him. Feliks gave it a forceful jerk and made his way up the stairs. No lift - yeah, definitely a place for university students. As he made his way to the third floor his brain started doing that infuriating thing again.

_What if they don't like you?_

I don't care.

_What if they laugh at you?_

I'll hand their asses back to them.

_What if Gilbert stops hanging out with you because he thinks they're cooler…?_

Oh my God. I. Don't. Care. _Shut up_.

The blonde actually slapped himself on the forehead. And almost climbed one flight of stairs unnecessarily, before realising he was actually already on the third floor. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, Feliks knocked on the door which he deduced to be the right one, despite it having no indication of it's number whatsoever.

"Ah, you made it upstairs. Congrats. Come in." Feliks did as told, giving Gilbert a peck on the lips as soon as he crossed the threshold (there's no being too careful with these things). He quickly took off his shoes while Gil very gentlemanly took his coat.

"Thanks. So, where are the other loonies?"

"Hey, be nice! Francis is in the kitchen making some french dish I can't pronounce, and I think Toni's on the phone. Did you get the wine?"

"Are you blind? What is it I'm holding?"

"Right. You might want to relax a bit, Liebe. You're sweating."

"No, I'm not. I just walked three flights of stairs. Shut up."

Gilbert just grinned and pointed him the way to the kitchen. Feliks huffed and followed the infuriating git.

The flat was slightly bigger than he expocted it to be. It actually had a hallway and each one of it's occupants had his own bedroom. To get to the kitchen they had to walk through the living room, which also doubled as a dining room. Feliks took a second to admire the subtle, homey decor, and noted that whoever took care of the interior design was _definitely_ not Gilbert. He could tell by the general lack of weirdness (or "awesomeness", in Gilbert-speak) the albino seemed to bring into everything he put his hands to.

As soon as they entered the kitchen Feliks could tell that Francis was a good cook. Nothing that smelled _this_ good could taste any worse. He breathed in the scent and smiled to himself.

"Hey, Franny, our guest has arrived. How's the dinner going?"

"Wonderful! It's going to be ready in ten minutes. Did you set the table?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Yes, mum."

"Bon. Oh, and hello Feliks. We haven't seen each other in quite a while" Francis smiled at the younger man.

"Yeah, I guess. What have you beed up to?"

"Nothing much, really. I'm finishing my course at university this year, and I'm thinking of going back to France after that, at least for a while."

"And I'm telling him he'll die of boredom if he does" Gilbert threw in with a smirk. Francis turned back to the stove, smiling as well. "Oui, perhaps you're right. It it just a thought, I'm going to let it breathe, so to speak"

"Well, you let it breathe, and we'll go get Toni, alright?"

"Yes, do that, I'm nearly done with everything here"

They went back to the hallway and stopped in front of one of the doors. The albino gave it a rhythmic knock and called out "Toni? Hey, buddy, the food's ready! Get your butt out here!"

They heard a bunch of muffled noises in return, looked at each other briefly, and Gilbert just pressed down on the door handle.

"I'm coming in, so I hope you're not jerking off or anything." Feliks rolled his eyes at his boyfriends bluntness.

Antonio was, fortunately, fully dressed and sat on his bed with the telephone pressed to his ear.

"I have to go Lovi, Gilbert… Yes, sorry, Lovino. Okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Or a little later today… Okay, I won't call you today. But I'll see you around christmas, right? Great! Love you!" he put the phone back in his pocket and smiled at the pair apologetically. "Sorry about that, Lovi is on an exchange program in America. I miss him a lot. He's supposed to come back for the holidays though."

"Lovino Vargas? As in Feliciano's brother?" Feliks asked, slightly confused.

"Yes, that's him! Why, do you know him well?"

"No, it's just that… Nevermind. I swear all the people around you are like some kind of a mafia, Gil. Was I the only one left out of the weird inner circle?"

"Don't be stupid, it's just a coincidence. Now, Toni, are you ready to eat? Franny's almost done."

"Oh, yes, I'll be right there."

"Yeah, whatever, just don't call him again, he might actually try to kill you"

"I won't. But also, he's in America, Gil. It would be very difficult for him."

"Maybe. But you have to remember, he_ does_ have a family in Sicily… Just saying…" Antonio just laughed at that. "You realise not everyone from Sicily is in the Mafia, right?"

"Maybe not everyone. One can't be too careful though."

The pointless and, in Feliks' opinion ridiculous musings over the Vargas connections with the Mafia were interrupted with a melodic and heavily accented voice from the living room. "Booooys! Dinner's ready!"

* * *

"No way!"

"Oui way. He really is sort of charming in person…"

"Meaning a dick, right? He is a complete dick in person?"

"…Well, yes, a little. But his talent…"

"Oh yes, totally, he's a genius. But you can tell from the way he talks about his models on TV that he's an obnoxious jerk."

"Oh mien Gott, seriously!? You've been talking about this guy with a weird last name for twenty minutes now! How long can you go on about someone who makes clothes for a living! My _grandma_ used to make clothes for a living!" Gilbert downed his third glass of wine, obviously annoyed that there wasn't any more for him to kill the time while his boyfriend and his flatmate unbelievably _still _discussed fashion designers.

"Hey, piss off, prussian plague, you wanted us to get along - we're getting along."

Francis chuckled at the nickname. "You certainly have an imaginative way of referring to Gilbert."

"He hasn't really let go of the whole partitions thing. Like most of his nation"

"But I can't help but notice that you are not prussian. In fact, nobody's prussian. At least not anymore."

Feliks shrugged. "German, prussian, same difference. Plus, I like alliteration."

"Ah."

"I think it's cute. It's like you private little thing, you know?" Antonio chipped in.

"Toni, you think everything's cute" Gilbert pointed out

"Well, a lot of things _are_ cute…"

"That might be true, however I don't thing a prussian plague is one of those things" Francis suggested, taking a sip from his glass.

"How do you know? Have you ever seen one?"

Feliks widened his eyes. Did he really just say that? How old was this guy, _five_? But what surprised him even more was the lack of reaction from the other two. Gilbert just looked at the spaniard and Francis gave him a nod.

_A nod_.

"Alright, you have a point, I haven't. A prussian plague could potentially be cute. It is suggested by it's name that it isn't though."

"I never even said I thought a prussian plague was cute. I think the fact Feliks calls Gil 'prussian plague' is cute. I think it's original and means he cares about him, actually."

Feliks tried really hard to hide the mad blush that appeared on his face, but it proved very difficult without anything to actually cover his face. Also, it turned out that whilst diving under the table to retrieve a fork you've "accidentally" dropped, you should really be careful and avoid hitting your head on the table, because it hurts like a bitch.

* * *

"It wasn't bad, was it?"

Gilbert handed Feliks his coat. The blonde put it on, but decided not to button it yet - walking down the stairs would make him sweaty again.

"Surprisingly, it really wasn't. Francis' less pervy than I remember, and Antonio is… Well, Antonio. There are really no other words to describe him, are there?"

"Nope. But he's a really good friend."

"Yeah, I can kind of see that… In a slightly autistic sort of way…Not that there's anything wrong with that" Feliks defended himself immediately.

"Yeah, I see what you mean. Anyway, I'm glad you got along. It really does mean a lot to me. Thanks."

"Sure, no problem. Are we sill up for tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Well, see you tomorrow then." He stood on his tiptoes and tried to give Gilbert a peck on the mouth, but was met with a hand at the back of his neck, preventing him from pulling away, and a tongue caressing his lower lip. He kissed back, although not without a roll of his eyes.

"Greedy bastard."

"You know I am" Gilbert grinned at him and opened the door. "Text me when you get home."

he rolled his eyes again. "Gil, nobody's going to kidnap me, we're in the middle of the city and it eight p.m."

"I know. Text me anyway."

"Fine. Bye. Don't have a heart attack if I forget."

"I'll try." With that he closed the door behind his boyfriend and made his way back to the living room. Antonio has returned to his bedroom, but Francis was still sat at the table.

"I've noticed you're relationship with Feliks is one of a… unusual nature."

Gilbert rolled his eyes at that, cleaning his plate with a piece of bread and taking a bite. "You're one to talk. You and Arthur are at each others throats all the time."

"Ah, but it makes the sex that much better"

The albino continued stuffing his face with bread and started laughing at the same time, which caused him to turn a very interesting shade of pink.

"In all seriousness though, I really do think he's good for you. Not too sweet, but not too sour. Perhaps just what you need."

Gilbert finally swallowed the concoction in him mouth. "Yeah, I think so. It's just… Different than it was with anyone else, you know?"

Francis chuckled and started piling the dishes to take them to the kitchen. "Oui, I know, mon ami. I know perfectly well."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Well, here it is, second and last instalment of my PrusPol extravaganza. Like it? Hate it? Let me know!**

**I feel like a couple of things need an explanation, so just to have a peace of mind, here you go:**

***the kissing over the threshold - it's a superstition in Poland that you shouldn't kiss or shake hands over a threshold (bad luck). I don't know if it's exclusively polish, but here you go.**

***in my brain Francis studies fashion (I'm not sure in what form), and also works as a model, hence he had the chance to meet a awfully famous designer. I wasn't sure if that was clear.**

**Forgive me for any mistakes, and please point them out. It's late, but I wanted to finish this tonight, as I'll possibly have a busy day tomorrow.**


End file.
